Half a Life
by theletterj
Summary: It was hard for George to move on after his twin's death. Not slash unless you want to read it that way. Rated T because it's sad and I'm paranoid.


A/N: Just a little one-shot because I was feeling inspired and I didn't want to study for finals.

* * *

><p>George stood in front of his brother's grave, making no noise. He didn't react at all to the concerned glances his family was giving him, or maybe he just didn't care. He stared down at his brother, tears silently streaming down his face.<p>

It could have been him lying there. It felt like it was him lying there, not breathing, heart not beating. The day his twin died a part of him died too. George felt like half of himself had been cut off. Fred would never breathe again, and at this moment, George felt like he wouldn't either.

* * *

><p>The bright sun streaming through the windows woke George from a fitful sleep. He rolled over onto his side, staring at the empty bed to his left. In the few months following the war, George had been staying at the Burrow. He hadn't wanted to go back to the flat above the shop.<p>

But now, the flat he had shared with Fred seemed vastly preferable to their childhood home. The house, especially this room, was filled to the brim with memories. Everything reminded George of his lost brother.

The burn mark on the foot of his bed: a firework experiment gone awry.

The piles of sweets on the nightstand: the start of their experiments; most of them would turn your skin a strange shade of purple.

The scribbles on the bottom of the door: the result of a rainy day when he and Fred were three, Mrs. Weasley had never been able to get the permanent ink off.

_Fred would never see this room again. _

* * *

><p>George sat in the back of his Diagon Alley shop, helping his employees make some new Skiving Snackboxes. It had been nearly a year since the war's end, and business was booming. Everyone needed something to cheer them up.<p>

"Mr. Weasley, there's a customer asking for you." George turned to see one of the salespeople standing in the doorway.

He nodded. "I'm a little busy actually. Maybe Fred..."

_Fred would never work again. _

George dusted off his hands and walked through the door, ignoring the concerned looks on the employees' faces. He strode into the shop, determined to appear completely normal. A tall witch perusing the edible Dark Marks looked up as he walked in.

"George!" Angelina Johnson called out. Confused but smiling, George made his way over to her.

_Fred would never see his friends again._

* * *

><p>The old Cleansweep was still hung carefully, as if it was the most precious thing in the world. An old set of Quidditch robes hung over the handle, a Beater's bat propped up beside them. Everything was coated with a thin layer of dust.<p>

Last week, when Angelina came to the shop she had challenged him to a Quidditch game.

"I heard you hadn't played in a while," she had said. "So I was talking to Harry and Ron, and we decided to get a game going. Weasleys versus the old Gryffindor team."

"But the Weasleys made up half of the Gryffidor Quidditch team," George protested.

He hadn't wanted to play, because there was a reason he hadn't played in over a year now. But here he was putting on his old Quidditch robes. Apparently Angelina could be quite persuasive.

George walked out onto the pitch, where everyone was already waiting.

On the Weasley side, Ron was Keeper, Charlie was Seeker, Ginny, Bill, and one of Ginny's friends were chasers, and George was the sole Beater.

On the Gryffindor side, Wood had somehow been convinced to join as Keeper, Harry was playing Seeker (of course), Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were Chasers, and a friend of Wood's played Beater.

Angelina had told George there would be only one Beater, because they were only playing with one Bludger, but George could see that she was just trying to help him. He was grateful.

As George took off into the air, he couldn't help but think, _Fred will never play Quidditch again._

* * *

><p>George stood at the end of a long aisle. He looked down at the beautiful witch gliding towards him in a long white gown. He had started dating Angelina three years ago, right after her team beat his at Quidditch.<p>

The moment nearly perfect. And though he'd thought it impossible since the end of the war, George was... happy. Except, _Fred would never get married._

* * *

><p>George paced the hall in St. Mungo's. A Healer poked her head out one of the doors. "Mr. Weasley, they're ready for you."<p>

As George hesitantly entered the small room. Angelina looked up at him and smiled. "He's beautiful."

Almost apprehensively, George peered down at the small bundle in Angelina's arms. The baby's eyes were closed but he could see the shock of red hair atop his son's head. George felt a lump rise in his throat.

_Fred would never have a child._

"I think we should name him Fred," Angelina said softly. George looked up in amazement. Then he nodded slowly.

Fred would visit the Burrow. He would play in the shop and help George with inventions. Fred would make friends and play Quidditch. Fred would grow up and get married and have children. And Fred would grow old. _This _Fred would live the life his uncle never did.

George may not have gotten his brother back, but he had a new family, and a life to live.


End file.
